


Please Please Please Let Me Get What I Want

by i_amthecosmos



Series: The Small Town Series [13]
Category: Bandom, One Direction (Band)
Genre: 80's AU, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Car Accident, Homophobic Language, M/M, attempts at safe sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-27
Updated: 2017-05-27
Packaged: 2018-11-05 12:04:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,529
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11013057
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/i_amthecosmos/pseuds/i_amthecosmos
Summary: Louis growing up as a gay boy in a small Georgia town in the 70's and 80's.





	Please Please Please Let Me Get What I Want

**Author's Note:**

> Another part of the small town series, mainly written over a week so I could deal with my feelings about Manchester and Chris Cornell. Title from the Smiths. Lyrics from "Want Ads" by Honey Comb.

1971\. Ten years old.

Louis waded out into the creek, laughing and screaming with Lottie. It was Sunday after church and they had changed to their swimsuits in the bathroom. They found a good spot and splashed each other as their mom told them to look out for slippery rocks and snapping turtles. Louis found a stick. “Hey Lots, want to find some mudbugs?” She nodded, eyes wide. 

Louis took the stick, and found a muddy area. He peered down until he saw a hole, and then he poked his stick in there. “Watch Lottie,” he said, and after a minute he felt something grasp the stick. He slowly pulled it out, and there was a scrawny little crawfish hanging on with one claw, looking like it wanted to kill him. Lottie squealed. 

Louis laughed and let the crawfish go back to his hole. “You try it next!” He gave her the stick. “Be careful.” Louis splashed into a deeper part of the creek. They were there with his mom and some people from the church standing on the sides watching. Louis tried to jump onto the rocks, as far as he could. His arms were swinging and he sang the song he heard in the car on the way there. 

_”Extra extra, read all about it. Wanted, young man single and free. Experience in love preferred, but will accept a young trainee..."_ He didn’t know what it meant, but it was funny.

As he leap-frogged closer, he saw a couple of the men from the church watching him. They were frowning and he stopped, wondering what he was doing wrong. The men glared at him, disgust in their eyes. Finally they turned away, and Louis heard one of them say something as he did so.

“If my boy acted like that, I would shoot him.”

…

1974\. Thirteen years old.

They were still going to the same church, but now Louis was a bit older, and he knew what made him different. He never talked about it, to anyone, but he knew. Before he went to school every day, he would square his shoulders, tell himself not to swish his hips when he walked. He always failed.

“Honey,” his mother said when Louis came back from school early with another black eye. “Who keeps doing this to you?” She went to the kitchen and pulled out a steak. Louis put it over his eye gingerly, laying back on the sofa. “Why won’t they leave you alone?” 

Louis knew his mama wasn’t blind, but he didn’t answer. What could he say? That he was the punching bag for most boys, and a secret fantasy to others, and sometimes both? He felt like he was too young for this. “I don’t want to go to school anymore,” he said.

“You can’t drop out until you’re sixteen. I’ll go to the principal, see if I can get you some protection-no?” Louis was already shaking his head. 

“It’ll just bring more attention to me. I really don’t want to. And anyway, the principal blames me. Because...” Louis had to think. “Because of how I walk.” He’d said it, the elephant had been addressed. He kept going. “I can’t help how I walk, I try to change it, but I can’t keep it up.” There were other things-his high voice, the way he was too skinny, too pretty, how he read his mother’s fashion magazines when he found them lying around. The fact that he liked to dance, and was one of the few boys in choir. But he figured he’d start with that.

“Oh Louis.” His mom sat down on the edge of the couch. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you about that, but I didn’t know when. Do you want to talk about it now?” Louis nodded. Why not, it wasn’t really a secret. “Okay.”

His mother paused for a minute. “So this is about the other kids thinking you’re gay?”

Louis tried not to roll his eyes. Of course it was. “Yeah?” He waited for the other shoe to drop.

“Do you think you might be? It doesn’t matter to me at all, pumpkin.”

“I guess. Maybe. I try not to think about it too much.” Louis thought about boys when he was alone in bed, and it freaked him out. “There’s no gay people here mom. I’m gonna have to move when I grow up." _If I grow up_ , he thought as his eye throbbed under the steak.

“Don’t worry about that now,” his mom commanded. “I love you, and you’ll always have a home here. Don’t forget that. And you can come talk to me about anything. I mean that, if anything’s bothering you, let me know.”

“Okay, I will. Love you too.” His mom left his side then, and went to the bathroom. Louis pretended he didn’t hear her crying.

 

…

1976\. Fifteen years old.

Louis was still getting his ass kicked, but by now he had figured out this could go both ways, and he’d started hitting back. He’s been suspended two times this year, and it was only November. It made him feel a bit more in control, but it freaked out his mom, so she dragged him and is sisters to church every Sunday. 

This Sunday night they had a special speaker. He was a big guy, overweight but still carried it well on a huge, probably 6’4 frame. He was also a shouter, and he preached on and on about tradition and values and how modern society was sending everyone to hell. He specifically singled out disco music, which made Louis clench his jaw. He loved disco, it was for people like him.

After the sermon, most people gathered in the front to talk and visit before they went home. Louis had to go to the bathroom, so he politely excused himself and went in.

After he pissed, he turned around and there was the guest pastor, right in front of him. The guy didn’t say anything at first, just loomed there. It made Louis uncomfortable. “Um, hi. So...”

The guy _grabbed_ him, and pushed him against the wall. He shoved one of his big thighs between Louis’s legs, and pulled his head back by his hair. The guy’s tongue in his mouth was strange, invasive. He tried to pull back, but he couldn’t. 

When the pastor let him up for air, Louis said the first thing he could think of. “I’m not sixteen yet.” Sixteen was legal age in Georgia, everyone knew that, he’d heard straight boys counting down until their younger girlfriend’s birthdays. “I’m not sixteen,” he said again. 

“It’s all right,” the pastor said. “I’m not going to hurt you.” Louis hadn’t thought that he would, so him bringing this up only made him more anxious. He tried to struggle, but he couldn’t move. “Stop that,” the pastor said, voice sharper. “It’s not like you haven’t done this before.” He hadn’t.

Time seemed to crawl by. The pastor had unzipped Louis’s pants and had stuck a hand down, gripping his cock. He was hard, of course, he couldn’t help it. It felt good even though his skin was crawling. “See, it’s not so bad,” the pastor said, and Louis wanted to spit on him. 

Just then, thank God, he heard a knock on the door. “Louis?” It was his mother’s voice. “Are you sick? You’ve been in there a while.” Louis let out a gasp, and the pastor shoved off him violently. Louis zipped himself back up as the man glared at him like he was a bug.

Louis buttoned his jacket to try to cover his hard-on, and as he shoved by the pastor, he heard him whisper “Faggot”. Then he hid in one of the stalls. Louis blinked tears out of his eyes as he opened the door. 

“Mama, I wanna go home,” was all he said, and she quickly got them all out of there. 

When he got home, he threw up in the toilet, then tried to pull himself together. _It wasn’t your fault_ , he told himself. It still felt like it. He washed his face, then left the bathroom. His mom was nobody’s fool though, so she followed him to his room, sitting on the desk chair while he curled up on the bed.

“What happened, Lou?” She said it quietly. Louis started crying again, soft tears. “You can tell me anything, right? I promised you.” He voice was soft and understanding, and so he told her, the words coming out slowly, his throat sore like he’d been chewing broken glass. 

When he was done, his mother sat there perfectly still. Louis was afraid she was going to throw him out or yell at him, but instead she stood up, and put a hand in his hair, stroking it back. “You were very brave.” Louis shook his head, since he hadn’t been able to stop it. “I’m going to make a call, I know where Pastor John is staying.” Then she left the room, going to the phone in the kitchen.

The next morning, Louis’s Uncle Willie was thrown in jail for beating the shit out of Pastor John in an ‘unprovoked attack’. All of Louis’s huge family had a cookout that weekend to raise bail money. Louis didn’t say much at the cookout, but he felt for the first time that he and his mother weren’t alone in this. 

 

…

1977\. Sixteen years old.

As soon as he came back from Christmas break, Louis walked into the principal’s office. “I’m leaving,” he said. “I’m dropping out.” He didn’t even try to hide the grin on his face. The principal scowled-he always hated the sight of Louis in his office-but he handed him the paperwork, and Louis turned in his books. Before he left, the school counselor came out of her office.

“Louis, are you really leaving?” He nodded. “Do you want me to get you some pamphlets on trade schools?”

Well. Louis hadn’t thought that far ahead. “Yeah. Yes ma’am.” She smiled at him, and came back with a few. Louis put them in his backpack. “Thank you.” 

“Be good,” she said, and Louis gave her a hug. She had always stood up for him when the principal had wanted him expelled. He left his torturers behind with a light heart, his mom waiting outside for him in the car. 

“Thank God that’s over,” Louis said, when his mom treated him to pulled pork sandwiches at his cousin’s place. “I’m done with getting beaten up every week. I hope all those guys get flat tires, and then I hope they knock up all their girlfriends and have to get married and get a job at the tractor factory.” 

“What are you going to do now?” His mom said. “I love you, but you’re not living in my house without either going to school or getting a job.” Louis figured she might let him, but he wouldn’t argue. He did need to stay busy.

“Mrs. Carlton gave me some stuff, about trade schools.” Louis got his backpack and dug them out of the bottom. “Let’s see what she got me.” There were ones for welding, electrician, and a few other things he had no interest in. Then he came to the last one. “Cosmetology school?” He looked at his mom. “Huh. Maybe?” 

“You’ve been cutting your own hair for a couple of years now,” she said. “You help me get the girl’s braids done before school every day. This might be the thing for you honey.” Louis privately agreed, and thought he’d enjoy learning it, but something held him back. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s just-it’s so stereotypical, you know?” His mother’s eyes widened, but Louis knew she got it. “It’s expected of people like me, right?” He still didn’t like saying ‘gay’ in front of his mother. “Everyone will laugh, say that it figures.” 

“So what?” Louis figured she’d say that. “Who cares about being a stereotype? That’s not always bad. I mean, look at it this way, if being a hairdresser is a stereotype, that means there’s lots of people like you in that job. This could help you meet more people, make some friends. I think it’s a great idea.” Then she dabbed some of her fries in ketchup while Louis thought about it.

Louis didn’t answer at first, looking at the pamphlet. Everyone on the cover was smiling fake smiles as they combed out the same ugly bobbed haircut. But he could do this, he knew he could. He could get up there, give people the haircuts they didn’t even knew they wanted. He could help people feel prettier, better about themselves. It wouldn’t be a bad life. And like his mom said, maybe he wouldn’t be alone.

“Can you afford this?” He said, taking a bite of his sandwich. “It’s not that expensive, but money’s tight.”

“Oh Louis,” his mom said. “I’ve been saving money for something like this since you were thirteen and told me you wanted to quit school. Don’t worry about the money. Don’t worry about Mark either, he knows you needed a new start.” Louis’s stepdad worked away from home, but Louis still considered his opinion.

“Okay then,” he said. “I’ll give them a call.”  
…

1978, Seventeen years old. 

The local community college cosmetology classes were not really for people like him, Louis thought. All his other classmates were slow-witted girls who made fun of him. There was one cool girl there, Macy. She liked Blondie and knew who the Ramones were. They hit it off, and she told him “Maybe you should try Atlanta, I have a friend who’ll let you crash on his couch. He won’t, you know, expect anything.” Louis doubted that, a lot of guys seemed to expect things from him ever since he became legal. But he looked into it, and two weeks later, he’d transferred to a hairdressing college in Atlanta.

Macy’s buddy Rob was a cool guy. He was twenty, dark haired, and gay as well. Although by this time Louis had had plenty of sex with guys, he never met someone else who said he was gay. He still had a lot of questions about it, and Rob answered them all. 

Louis did start out on Rob’s couch, but that didn’t last long. The sex was amazing, and the companionship good too. But they weren’t in love, they both reassured the other, even as they slept in the same bed. They were just good friends. 

“Hey,” Rob yelled over to him. They were at school, practicing on some clients, and Louis was finishing up his last client of the day. “We’re going out tonight, we’ll go home and get ready.” 

“You got it,” Louis said, as his client made a disapproving scowl in the mirror. He just smiled, serene. She couldn’t hurt him if he didn’t let her. 

Their friends came over later that night. Macy had come up from his hometown, and she was joined by a new guy, Jeffery. Jeffery was blond, sweet, and sort of dumb. Louis shared a look with Rob, and they silently made a plan to try for a threesome with Jeffery later.

They all stayed in to have a few drinks, then they piled in the car. Rob shoved his favorite Clash 8-track into the car stereo, and the four of them took off, Rob driving, Macy next to him, and Louis and Jeffery in the back. 

It happened too fast. One second they were singing along to the tape, the next was a mess of screeching tires, shattered glass and screams. When the car stopped moving, Louis realized it was upside down. “Rob?” He didn’t get an answer, but he heard Macy crying. “Macy, can you get out? We need to get out!” 

She just kept crying, so Louis checked his side. The window was completely busted out, so he crawled out, wincing as the glass cut through his jeans. Then he got to Macy, her window shattered as well. On autopilot, he helped her out, then went to the other side to get Jeffery, but he couldn’t. That whole side was crumpled. 

He looked at Rob, and there was no way he could get him out. “Rob, are you awake? Talk to me please. Rob?” Just then, he heard sirens and the fire department was there like that. How could they be there that soon? Was he losing track of time? The firemen shoved him aside, and he stood there, hugging Macy, while they watched them try to save their friends.

When the ambulances arrived, they all got taken to the hospital. Louis had to have stitches in his head, and a lot of cuts and bruises. Macy had a head wound, cuts on her arms and face, and a big cut on her leg. The doctor told her she did well since she was the only one with a seatbelt.

Jeffery and Rob were wheeled away, and nobody could tell him and Macy how they were doing. Louis and Macy were put through a lot of tests, and then they found out that Louis had broken a bone in his hand. He’d been so upset, he didn’t even feel it. “I’m going to hairdressing school,” he said as they put a cast on it. The nurse patted his shoulder.

“It’ll heal in a couple of months, you’re young. They’ll let you take some time off.” 

“I might have to go back home,” he said mostly to himself. The nurse patted his shoulder again. “I need to call my mom.” 

“You friend gave us her number, we called her,” another nurse said. “She said she’s on her way. We told her you were fine.” 

“Thank you,” he said, and he stared at the TV until they left. It was a MASH re-run. He liked MASH. It kept his mind off how Rob was. 

They kept him and Macy overnight for observation, and Louis’s mom must have shown up after he fell asleep, she was there the next morning. They got news on Jeffery and Rob. Jeffery had internal bleeding but would be okay. Rob had a severe head injury, and was alive, but unconscious.

Louis was not allowed to see Rob, or Jeffery for that matter. Macy wasn’t either, but they glared at Louis a bit harder when he asked. Later, as he was checking out, he saw some angry, flinty-eyed people asking for Rob’s room number. Louis wondered if they were his family. They probably were, there was a resemblance. 

The nurse wheeled him to his mom’s car, and they sat inside it for a minute in silence. Then Louis said “I need to call the school.” 

“I already did,” his mom said. “I told them your hand was injured, and they’re refunding 50% of your tuition until you’re ready to come back. And you can come home to rest up, since you probably don’t have a place to stay anymore.” 

Louis cried at that, his hand over his mouth. “I should probably go by and get my things from Rob’s,” he said. “Before his parents find out I was fucking him.” He felt hollow inside, saying it like that. He might not have been Rob’s boyfriend, but there was more to it than just sex.

“Louis.” His mom turned to him. “You didn’t tell me. Why not? Was he treating you badly?” His mom looked like she might go back inside that hospital and finish Rob off. Louis shook his head.

“He treated me really well. I just wasn’t in love with him. And he said the same. It was nice being with him, he made things good. But we were friends. It’s hard to explain.” Louis’s head was hurting, a dull throb behind his eyes. “Did they say anything to you about headaches? Do I have to go back in?”

“They said you might have them and gave me some pain medication. They should only last a couple of days, any more and you need to go back.” His mom turned the key and Louis started at the sound of the engine. “Let’s get your stuff pumpkin.” 

…

Louis spent the next three months recovering, physically. The headaches hadn’t stopped, and they just got worse. He went to different doctors, but nobody could find a sure cause. They just gave him medications that made him droopy and stoned. He spent a lot time in his room, watching the TV his mom had gotten him. He was losing track of days, falling asleep at weird hours. He had nightmares about the wreck sometimes, but mostly he was too stoned to dream. 

 

“I feel like a loser,” he told his mom after he’d woken up at 4pm, and she hugged him gently. 

“You’re not. You’re getting better, your cast is coming off next Thursday. And you’ve only had one headache this week, so they might be tapering off. But, I think after that, it’s time for you to start going out, getting your life back.”

“Yeah.” Louis ate his cereal. It was hard to think about. He was only a few months from his cosmetology degree, but it seemed very far away. “Should I go back here or Atlanta? I don’t really know anybody there anymore.” Rob was still in the hospital, and Macy was depressed and just scheduled a surgery to make her facial scars less noticeable.

“You could go back here, everything transfers,” she said. “But I thought you didn’t like it.”

Louis picked at his napkin. “I don’t give a fuck what anyone says about me anymore.”

…

1980\. Nineteen years old.

“Louis honey, can you take Mrs. Richards? She’s in a hurry.” Louis nodded as his cousin directed him to another client. When he finished cosmetology school, he thought he might move, go somewhere else. But instead, Mark left for good and his cousin gave him a job so he could help the family. 

“Hello Mrs. Richards,” he said, being sweet and chatty, the way his clients expected him to be. It could be exhausting, living up to everyone’s expectations of the Happy Gay Hairdresser, but he did his best. She beamed at him, and Louis started getting her ready for her perm. It wasn’t difficult, his teachers had said he was a natural. 

When he got done for the day, he waved at his cousin/boss, and walked to his shitty run-down apartment. After he had dinner (two bowls of cereal) and a shower (perm chemicals were evil things), he got dressed nicely and headed to Bob’s on foot.

Louis had never gotten his driver’s license. He couldn’t stand the idea of driving after what had happened to Rob. From what he’d heard, Rob had permanent damage from the accident and was living in a group home. He’d never tried to see him, he knew that they wouldn’t let him. He couldn’t imagine something like that happening to him, so he wore his seatbelt and turned down his mama’s requests to take the test. 

It was a walk, getting to Bob’s, and the humidity always messed up his perfect hair, but what the hell. It was the South. He got jeered at by a truck full of rednecks. He didn’t even bother to glance their way. If they wanted to kill him, he’d go down fighting.

When he finally made it to Bob’s, he was sweaty and tired. Frank hugged him at the door, and Bob had his favorite beer on the bar before he even got there. It was a slow night-the only customers there were him and a guy he didn’t know. There was an 18-wheeler out front, he must be the driver. He saw the guy give him a once-over, and Louis could pinpoint the exact moment he passed this guy’s attractiveness test. Soon enough, he slid over.

Louis wasn’t altogether sure he liked this guy-he was older and had a gut and refused an offer to dance-but he talked to him anyway. The guy bought him another beer, and they talked some more before going back to his truck. 

“Am I paying you?” Louis didn’t mind that question-this guy didn’t know him-so he just shook his head. “Okay then. What do you like?”

“Tonight? Maybe just blowjobs. I’ll have to walk home, I don’t want to do it with a sore ass.” The guy looked disappointed, but he just shrugged. 

“I can drive you home, but okay.” The guy pulled his shirt off, and Louis had to concede that the guy did have an okay body, except for the gut. Louis pulled his clothes off, and laid on his side, watching. The trucker came in close. “Can I kiss you? I understand if you don’t want to.”

“That’s all right,” Louis said, and his new friend kissed him intensely, before moving down his body and getting to business. Louis stared up at the truck’s ceiling. It felt good, just like the last time, or the time before. Sex was a good thing. When he came, his trucker friend swallowed it all, and Louis sighed. 

After a minute, the trucker said “You didn’t fall asleep on me, didja?” Louis actually laughed then, getting an answering snort from the trucker whose name Louis had long forgotten. “Do you still want to?”

“Oh yeah,” Louis said, sitting up. The other guy laid down in the cramped sleeping area in the back of his van. “But so you know, I’m not going to swallow.” 

“Why not, you scared of the clap?” Louis nodded quickly. He’d heard the news from New York, gay men getting suddenly sick with a new cancer, and he wasn’t sure what was causing it, but he decided to take it easy with what he did. Couldn’t be too careful, especially with a guy who drove all over the country. But then he wrapped his hand around the trucker’s cock, and wrapped his lips around it. That ended the conversation.

Louis concentrated on getting this guy off. He didn’t give him much instruction, just played with his hair and said stuff Louis couldn’t make out. When he was ready, he tugged on Louis’s hair until he came up. Louis finished him with his hand and then looked for something to clean it. “Got-got some baby wipes over there.”

“Thanks.” He wiped off his hands, then cleaned his partner up. He might as well, after all. Then he started trying to find his clothes in the dim light of the truck cab, while the trucker turned on a small TV.

“Are you going to go? Do you want to stay here with me and watch TV a little?” 

Louis almost stayed. He could hear how lonely this man was, and he knew how lonely he was. But he couldn’t stay, just waiting a minute was enough to make his hair stand on end. “No, sorry. I’m going to go back in and talk to Bob. He’s a good guy, he’ll probably give me a ride home.”

“I could still give you a ride,” the trucker said. Louis shook his head. “Well alright. Thanks. I’ll look for you next time I’m in town.” 

“Okay,” Louis said, giving him a smile. It was more natural than his work smile, he thought. It worked too, since the trucker perked up a little. Then Louis got his shoes on, gave the trucker a peck on the mouth, and got out of there.

“You could have stayed with him a little,” Bob said when Louis got back. He’d gone into the bathroom to make sure he didn’t have any come on him, then went back to the bar for another drink. “You need to meet more people, Louis.”

“You sound like my mom now,” Louis said, drinking his beer. “I’ll probably never see that guy anyway.  
He’ll be okay.” Louis hoped so, at least. “I won’t ever find anything serious long as I’m here, so why try?”

“You don’t know that.” Louis shrugged. Bob was single, and he was the most available queer this side of Atlanta. If he couldn’t get anyone, what chance did Louis have?

“It’s too bad we weren’t born lesbians,” Louis said. “Every carpet-muncher I know has been married for the last six years.” Bob laughed, and then cut him off from any more booze.

Louis wound up getting a ride home on the back of Frank’s motorcycle. It was terrifying, but he trusted Frank pretty well. “Go sleep, you got work in the morning,” Frank told him. So Louis staggered upstairs, took his shoes off, and slept in his clothes. The next day, he got up and it it all over again.

…

1982\. Twenty-one years old.

Louis was at Bob’s, looking around for anyone interesting to get with as he drank his whiskey. He was going through a bit of a whiskey phase. Everyone looked pretty boring, until he turned towards the door and saw someone new come in. 

It was a slim, dark-haired boy with pretty tan skin. He was well-dressed and elegant, moving like a model. He looked nervous, and Louis was positive this was his first time in any queer space. Louis watched him as he looked around, and then walked over to a corner like he wanted to hide. 

Nope, Louis wasn’t letting him get away with that. He took his drink and walked right over. “Hi. My name’s Louis. Do you want me to get you a drink? I’m not trying to get into your pants.”

The young man let out a surprised laugh. “But what if I did want you to get in them?” Louis laughed too, this guy was funny. Good.

“Well that’s another story, but you walked in here like you thought someone was going to jump on you right away, so I thought I just might try being friendly. What’s your name?” 

“It’s Zayn,” he said, and Louis nodded, turning it over in his head. “My family moved to this area a couple of years ago. I’m the only Pakistani for miles I think.” 

But not the only queer.” Zayn looked shocked, and Louis back pedaled a little. “Sorry, but you’re gay right? That’s why you’re here?” If Zayn was just an unusually fashionable straight boy in the wrong bar, this night was going to be awkward. 

“Oh, yeah. I just never heard anyone say that the way you did, as a positive. It was surprising is all.” Louis raised an eyebrow, this kid was smart. 

“You’re a bright guy, we’ll have to run you for office someday.” Louis clapped him on the back. “Come sit with me, and get a drink. We can talk.” 

“I might just have a Coke,” Zayn said, then when Louis looked at him curiously. “Muslim family. Not sure how I feel about it myself. But my family is. My dad knows I’m gay, but he’s more concerned that I’ll drink a lot.” 

“There is nothing but bars for gay men, that’s for sure. The lesbians do a better job of having events for other interests.” Zayn laughed. “I’m glad your family is all right with you. It seems like you’re close to them.”

“I’m going to school in Atlanta for art, and I’m home on the weekends,” Zayn said, ordering a Coke from Bob. “So I was glad to find out this place existed. The bars in Atlanta are kind of overwhelming when you’re new.”

“Agreed. It’s fun if you have friends, but it’s hard to get to know people.” Louis hadn’t been to Atlanta in months, liking the laid-back atmosphere at Bob’s better. He was getting laid just fine here. “So how long have you been out?”

“Still working on it,” Zayn said. “I’m not out at school, and I’m an art student mind you. I’m out to my immediate family and some of the extended. So, work in progress.” Zayn drank some of his Coke. “What about you? You don’t look like the type to hide.”

“That was never an option for me, I’m afraid.” Louis shrugged, not caring. “I’ve always had to fight to be who I was. I’ll say it was worth it.” It was hard on his family sometimes, like that time three months ago where he got in a fight and was mysteriously the only one arrested. Louis was the only person he knew who had money saved back just for bail. 

“I think I was pretty obvious in school too, but people were too busy calling me the Ayatolla to notice.” Louis grimaced at that. “Yeah, it was pretty terrible. My mom’s white and my dad’s Pakistani, so that’s another thing. Some people really hate race-mixing.”

“They can all get fucked then.” Louis finished the rest of his whiskey, thought about ordering another one. He got a Coke instead, imitating Zayn. It looked like they were going to talk, and he wanted to make sense. 

They talked a long time. Zayn was the most interesting person he’d met since Rob. He knew a lot about art, and fashion too. “I’m starting to really get into sewing,” Zayn told him.. “I just made a great sari, it’s beautiful. But I don’t know who it’s for.”

“Then it’s for you, clearly.” Zayn laughed and blushed. “If you’re making dresses, maybe you can start doing drag someday. Bob could use another performer or two.” 

“Maybe. I don’t know if I’m ready for that yet.” Just then Bob rang the bell he had behind the bar.

“Closing time! We love you, but get the fuck out! You don’t have to go home, but you can’t stay here!” Harry, the hoochie-coochie boy in a dress that lived with Bob, giggled like she did every time he said that. It must be nice, to be with someone who always thought your jokes were funny.

Louis stood up, stretching a little. Zayn got up too. “Can I get a ride from you? I don’t drive.’ He’d been thinking about getting a bicycle, but he was afraid it would be too tempting for rednecks to run him down. 

“Yeah, I’ve borrowed the car for tonight. How far are you?” 

“About two miles. I’ll give you directions.” They drove mostly in silence, listening to Zayn’s Prince tape. “I should sing this,” Louis said when “Dirty Mind” came on. “I think I can do the falsetto.” 

“You can sing, that’s great,” Zayn said. “I can sing a little, I try to.” Louis nodded, this guy was a catch. He’d be boyfriend material if Louis was looking for that. As it was, he just hoped they got home soon.

When they made it to his little apartment, Zayn turned to face him. “So hey, maybe I can get your number, it’ll be good to have a friend.”

“You can have that,” Louis said. “But...do you want to come up with me? You’re a really nice guy, and I can make you feel good.” Zayn looked a bit surprised, and shook his head. “Why not? Do you have a boyfriend?”Zayn hadn’t mentioned one. 

”Uh, no, I’m just...I’d rather be friends, if that’s okay. I mean you’re attractive, but...” Louis tuned out then. He wasn’t Zayn’s type, that just figured. He’d never find anyone in this town. It was hopeless. “Louis, are you listening to me?”

“I’m sorry,” Louis said. “I just-I’ve fucked guys who were my friends, so I guess I don’t have much of a line drawn between the two. And maybe I didn’t expect that. Um, are you still interested in having my number? I’ve been an ass but I could use a new friend.” 

“That’s great. I just-I don’t like going to bed with someone right away. And you’re not being an ass. If we’re friends and it comes up later, that’s one thing. But yeah, I’ve got a pen and a sketchpad, write your number on that.” Louis found it and wrote it down. Then He turned back to Zayn and kissed him on the cheek. “Oh. Okay, bye.”

“Be safe driving.” He’d insisted that Zayn wear his seatbelt when they got in, and Zayn just looked at him oddly. He got out, and waved at Zayn, then went up to his place. He passed his neighbor Cheryl, who was drunk, sitting out on the picnic bench in front of the apartments with a bottle of vodka.

“Think that one’s too good for you, hon,” she cackled, and Louis just shook his head. Maybe she was right.

…

1984\. Twenty-three years old.

It was a weeknight at Bob’s, and Louis was dancing alone on the dance floor to Madonna. Zayn was finishing up at school, and only a few people were there. Louis was out, and he felt good. He didn’t even want to hook up, he just wanted to enjoy himself. 

He moved his hips to the music-Madonna was his favorite now. Blondie had basically disappeared, so he was happy to have a new female singer to love. He always requested it when a DJ was at the club. He was having such a good time dancing to his favorite song, that he almost missed the man coming at the bar. 

But somehow, he looked over, and there was a tall, muscled man with a buzz cut. He was drinking a shot of whiskey, and Louis stopped where he was, watching the man’s throat work as he finished it. Louis felt captivated, at what he could see from this distance. So he got closer. 

He climbed up on the barstool right next to the stranger, who didn’t seem to notice. Louis saw a beautiful face with the saddest eyes he’d ever seen. Oh God, he couldn’t stay away from this one, could he? He suddenly wanted to make this man happy, even if for a night. Nobody that beautiful, he decided, should be that sad.

“Hey,” he said, and the man blinked those puppy eyes his way. He looked Louis over, and Louis was sure the guy liked his look, so that was good. He listened as he said that he planned to drink another shot, and tried to think of the perfect answer while he kept his cool. Somehow, he knew he was only getting one chance. 

“I say you get a beer instead. Then I can get one, and we can talk over them. That’s what I would like to happen.” The sad-eyed man looked convinced if still a bit wary, and Louis felt like he could shout. Victory, so far.

Louis found out the man’s name, Liam, and chatted him up for just a few minutes. For some reason he wanted to close the deal quick, to make sure that this one was interested. Liam seemed a bit bewildered, out of his element, but he said yes all the same. Louis watched him go speak to Bob, and Louis took note of Liam’s body language, how he never wasted a movement just in case he had to fight. Had to have been a Marine, there was no question in his mind. 

Then Liam looked back his way, crooked half-smile on his face, and Louis went to him.

**Author's Note:**

> Louis uses some language in this that would not be acceptable today. It's a product of both the times and his smart mouth. The car accident is also a product of the time before seatbelt laws and safer cars. This was also before mandatory 21 year legal age for booze nationwide.


End file.
